


maybe flowers, maybe love

by melturheadaches, throam (orphan_account)



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-28 04:30:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12598168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melturheadaches/pseuds/melturheadaches, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/throam
Summary: 'you made flowers grow in my lungs and although they are beautiful i cannot breathe.'





	maybe flowers, maybe love

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this so damn long ago but i haven't had the time to upload it (school, yikes) but i really hope u guys enjoy !
> 
> shoutout to jess @melturheadaches for beta reading this fic!

They were halfway through the tour when the pain in Ryan's chest got worse. Every night he'd wake himself up after coughing fits, muffling the sounds with his pillow as to not wake anyone up. The skin under his eyes became decorated with darkness after a week of sleepless nights and violent dreams. Three days later, he coughed up a petal from as pink carnation, catching it in his hand while he regained hius breath. He looked over at Spencer, who had been absentmindedly staring at a book until he heard a sharp intake of breath.

"You okay? You seem pretty-" his voice trailed off as Ryan held out the petal with wide eyes. "Did you just?" Ryan stood up to leave, not getting far before Spencer tugged on his arm, motioning for him to sit down. "Unless you've recently eaten a flower or two, how do you plan on explaining to me what the _fuck_ just happened?"

"You tell me, Spence. I have _no_ idea." Ryan pled, clenching his fists.

"I can read you beller than that," he replied calmly. "But sure. Go to sleep, it's late. But when you figure it out, let me know." he added, exasperatedly, dismissing Ryan with his hand. Ryan stood up again, moving to his bunk and trying his best to block his thoughts and sleep, just try not to think, just-

"I know you're not really sleeping. For one, your head only just hit the pillow, and another, you're the worst actor."

"Screw you too. Bren, I'm trying to sleep." Ryan said, keeping his back turned and staring at the bunk wall.

"Yes, me too." Brendon said, smiling qa little before climbing into the bunk behind Ryan, who withheld for a few moments before turning to face him. "You look ill, Spence said you don't feel too good."

"I'm fine. Just a cold," Ryan said monotonously, trying his best to sound bored.

"I'll stay in here tonight, if that's okay?" Ryan nodded, and didn't wince when Brendon wrapped a protective arm around him, and definitely didn't read into it too much when he rested his head on his chest, gently.

He didn't realise he'd fallen asleep until he was awake again, sometime in the middle of the night. Unsurprisingly, Brendon was still there, breathing evenly against his chest. He moved Brendon's arn away slowly and manouvered himself away from the bunk before making his way to the bathroom. He looked in the mirror, splashed his face with water, looked away. He coughed into his sleeves, a sharp pain spreading through his lungs. He choked up three violet petals and watched them flutter to the ground, his vision blurring as he wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

The next day, he didn't awaken until noon, wandering into the living area where Jon was undoubtedly losing at Mario Kart while Zack was undoubtedly tearing him to shreds,

"Mornin;" Ryan mumbled, leaning against the chair.

"Afternoon." Spencer corrected, nodding politely. "Feeling better? We don't have to cancel the show, right?"

"No, I'm okay." Ryan shook his head wearily, sitting in the corner of the couch, feeling dazed, his eyes heavy. The pain returned to his chest, and as he tried to leave the room, his vision faded to black.

When he opened his eyes again, he was in a lower bunk. "You're awake! Guys, he's awake!" Jon called out. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"Never better. What happened?"

"You passed out. You also threw up a pile of tiny flowers; what the fuck have you been taking?"

"Nothing, I swear. I have no idea what's happening here."

"Dude," Zack said, pushing through the door and sounding more angry than sympathetic. "Explain, please? We had to cancel tonight's show, do we need to cancel tomorrow's?"

"Zack, lay off him, he just passed out." Brendon said coolly, following. "Ry, are you okay? What happened?" Ryan shrugged helplessly, embarrassed at the situation. Brendon turned to Zack, muttering something about cancelling shows before turning around again.

Jon turned to leave, too, adding something about updating Spencer on what's happening.

"You can tell me what's going on, you know? We're all kinda baffled, like- has it happened before?"

"Not the fainting. But the flowers have. Three times."

"What? This is a big deal, are you sure you're alright?" Brendon asked desperately, grabbing Ryan's forearms.

"It is not a big deal, alright? I'm going outside." Brendon didn't follow.

Three nights and two cancelled shows later, Ryan denied offers of medicine and denied a trip to the doctor, repeatedly telling himself that he's fine, fine, fine. He leaned against the bus, being taken by surprise when the door opened.

"Hey." Brendon nodded, lighting a cigarette and staning next to Ryan. "So, I'm really sorry if I said something or- well, I'm not sure. I don't know what I did but I'm sorry."

"What?" Ryan asked, turning his head and taking a drag of the cigarette Brendon held out to him.

"You've been avoiding me?" Brendon replied, sounding not quite sad, but more disheartened than usual.

"I- shit, have I?" Ryan whispered, leaning back against the bus. "I'm sorry."

“No, don’t be sorry, I just. I don’t want you to be upset, y’know. I love you and I hate to see you like this.” He shrugged, as if it were self-explanatory. Ryan closed his eyes again, feeling dizzy as the world around him blurred. He took a deep breath, now knowing what to expect when the pain hit, a pile of rose petals falling to the ground, a deep red against the wet grey of the pavement. “Shit, Ry.” Brendon said, sounding panicked as he put an arm around Ryan’s waist, steadying him as he lost his balance. “Are you alright?”

“No,” Ryan said, quietly, his voice cracking. He leaned against Brendon for a moment, before moving to sit on the ground, leaning against the bus. Brendon joined him.

“Ok, Ry. Just- please tell me what’s happening.” Ryan opened his mouth to explain. “The truth.”

“I, uh. Well a couple months ago, I started getting this really bad pain in my chest. It got worse a few weeks ago, when I first choked up one of those fucking flowers. At first, I didn’t really know why it was hurting so bad. I assumed it was just like, asthma. Or allergies, or something.” He shrugged, before continuing. “When I coughed up a flower, I finally realised what was going on.”

Brendon shook his head, still confused. “So what is going on?”

“I uh. When I fell in love. It sounds stupid. But the pain started when I fell, the flowers started when I acknowledged it, I guess.”

“A few months..” Brendon frowned. “You fell in love with Jac after you broke up?”

Ryan forced a laugh. “God, no, it wasn’t Jac,” He rubbed his nose, tried to blink back the tears, stupid fucking tears. His hands were trembling slightly, the tears fell down his face.

“Then who?” Brendon asked, looking over at Ryan.

“You- you don’t have to fucking act like y-“ Ryan whispered, cutting himself off. “Bren, look at this mess. You made flowers grow in my lungs and they’re beautiful, but- I can’t fucking breathe.”

“Ryan,” Brendon said, quietly, tears in his eyes. Ryan finally looked up at him, not responding to the small smile he gave. Brendon leaned in closer and brushed his lips against Ryan’s, slow and unsure.

Ryan pushed him away gently.

“You don’t have to. Not because you’re guilty. Or anything. I’m just me, and you don’t even want this a-“

“I do want it.” Brendon whispered, his lips brushing Ryan’s cheek. He turned his head the slightest amount, pressing their lips together again, coaxing Ryan closer until he kissed back. He tangled his hand in Ryan’s hair, pushing him against the side of the bus. He leaned back, pulling himself away.

“You fell. In love with me, and you didn’t even tell me.”

“How could I tell you,” Ryan said softly. “If I couldn’t tell myself.”

Ryan stayed in Brendon’s bunk that night, it was comfier, after all. And the pain stopped, the flowers, too, albeit not as soon. He was still breathless at the sight of Brendon, and it might have been the flowers, or it might have just been love.

 


End file.
